


The living nightmare

by rangerdanger985



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Character Death, I Made Myself Cry, Nightmares, This is not Happy, be aware this is all hurt no comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 17:15:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20362144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rangerdanger985/pseuds/rangerdanger985
Summary: Lay down your head, I'll sing you a lullaby.a look at hank before the game.





	The living nightmare

**Author's Note:**

> i partly blame the new era discord and sleep deprivation,
> 
> Trigger warning btw for car crashes and child death

Its surprising, what gave you nightmares as a child. Imaginary children under the bed, a lost toy or even a shadow on the wall.

As an adult you learn to face those fears, aren’t gripped as easily by the terrors of the night.

Hank never understood Coles fears, the way the young bright boy would run into his room, crying and holding to him like a lifeline. Stammering out about monsters and things of the sort, hank never turned away his son, never told him to suck it up like his old man use to do.

He always pulled the boy into his bed, settled him into his lap and rocked back and forth until his tears stopped. Hank found, after many sleepless nights for both, that the quickest way to calm the boy down and sooth him to sleep was to sing, or hum really. The deep sound and vibration of his chest soothing the boy better than any drug.

Usually hank hummed whatever he thought of, even songs from his younger days that a child really shouldn’t listen to. He found the one that worked best was an old song he could barely remember by some band named after a garden.

Those were his most peaceful nights, holding the slight warm weight of his son in his arms, smelling the clean scent only children ever seemed to have, nose touching the blonde hair cold had gotten from him and humming mindlessly as the boy breathed slowly on his chest.

Being a father was an amazing thing, he wouldn’t give it up for anything in the world and it resulted in many wonderful memories, but these were his favorite’s.

Who knew such wonderful memories could become the greatest curse?

It was supposed to be a quick trip to the store, but the weather had turned, snowflakes drifting from the sky peacefully and making driving difficult as the trucks hadn’t been out yet to lay salt. He shouldn’t have brought Cole; he should have left his son at home with their dog.

He had glanced back, taking his eyes off the road for just a moment to glance in the rearview at his sleeping son. He heard the screeching tires, saw the truck skid and knew it was going to hit them, he jerked the wheel, the car skidding and the truck hitting the passenger side.

For a moment he was relieved as Cole was strapped in behind him, but it was short lived as the metal crunched and the momentum of the crash flipped the car.

Glass shattered and it felt like it lasted forever, burning pain ingulfing hanks body and darkness surrounding him. when his eyes opened his body both burned and was cold and he laid staring at the sky, snowflakes slowly drifting to touch his hot skin.

He had been thrown from the car.

He couldn’t move his arm.

He didn’t know where Cole was.

Where was his son.

Hissing he turned over and saw their car was half tipped and wrapped around a large tree and his heart started pounding, both his heart and the taste of vomit in his throat “Cole” he strained and looked around.

A small figure laid not far away.

“fuck, Cole!” hank scrambled forward, his son laying on the ground and the blonde hair they shared coated with blood from a head injury. His face still looked peaceful, as if he was still asleep “Cole, come on son, wake up” he reached down with his good arm and scooped up the child, holding him close.

His body was limp and bloody, they both were.

Hanks breath left him, and he ducked his head, nose pressing to his son’s hair like nearly every night, his sons’ clean scent now masked by blood and gas and melted rubber from useless breaks. “it’s going to be alright” he soothed the boy that couldn’t hear him “you’re alright” hank started rocking, his mind already telling him what he didn’t want to think about.

Telling him the boy was gone.

That he’d never woken up to begin with and never would again.

It didn’t stop him from humming even as his lungs burned and his throat was raw and all he wanted to do was scream and rage at the gods for doing this to him.

He held the boy tighter “to guard you, and keep you, safe from all harm” his voice broke, and the rest of him followed, holding his son close he screamed his pain into the still night air.

Now his most precious memories, were his darkest curse and his greatest nightmare.

And no one was there to sing him to sleep.


End file.
